


untitled bedsharing fic

by J (j_writes)



Category: Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-30
Updated: 2011-07-30
Packaged: 2017-10-21 23:58:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/231333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/j_writes/pseuds/J
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mikey shifted against Pete, his knees sticking into a different part of his legs.  "Is that better?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	untitled bedsharing fic

**Author's Note:**

> written for Pearl-o for a tropes meme.

"Mikey," Pete said, staring at the wall a few inches from his face. Mikey breathed against his neck and didn't answer. "Mikey." Still no answer. "Mikey _way_."

"Mmph," Mikey said grumpily.

"You're doing it wrong again," Pete told him.

"That's what she said!" Joe called from his bunk, and Pete reached out of the curtain to throw a shoe in his general direction. "Missed me!" he said gleefully.

Mikey shifted against Pete, his knees sticking into a different part of his legs. "Is that better?"

Pete sighed. "Weren't you, like, some kind of sex god back in Jersey?" Mikey let out a noncommittal noise. "You'd think that during all that time, you'd learn how to snuggle like a human, and not a pile of golf clubs."

"There wasn't usually much sticking around after the sex. Anyway, Gee got all the snuggling genes in our family," Mikey said, shrugging against Pete's back. "I can go sleep on the couch, if you want."

Pete rolled over, elbowing Mikey in the stomach. "Don't you dare," he said. "Clearly, we just need to teach you how this whole bed sharing thing works."

Mikey sighed. "I share a bed with Gee all the time," he reminded Pete. "And pretty much everyone else, when we're touring. You're just the only one who feels the need to be all…" he flapped a hand over Pete's body. "On me."

Pete made a perplexed face. "That's because everyone else is wrong."

"Oh. Right. Well, look, I'll try to…" Mikey said, and bent himself into a vaguely curvy shape. "Is that better?"

"Not really," Pete said, sitting up and inspecting him. "You look kind of like Quasimodo."

Mikey frowned at him. "How do you know what it feels like to snuggle with a pile of golf clubs, anyway?"

"Clearly you've never toured with Dirty. You'd be amazed the uses he finds for them," Pete said. "Here, look, you just have to…" he scooted back down next to Mikey and wrapped himself around him. "Like this, see? Go kind of floppy."

Mikey flapped an arm over Pete's back before settling it against him. "I'm flopping, Pete."

"You're _trying_ too hard."

"And whose fault is that?" Mikey asked, looking at him expressionlessly.

"Okay, that's it," Pete said, and climbed over Mikey, tumbling gracelessly from the bunk. He whipped open the curtain and grabbed Mikey's arms, dragging him out after him.

"What happened to sleeping?" Mikey asked, disappointed.

"Later, my young friend, later. Now is the time for a tutorial." He marched Mikey out into the lounge with a hand against his back, then pushed him down into the chair by the tv. "Watch and learn," he said.

Patrick looked up warily from the couch. "Is this the part where I make a quick exit for the sake of my sanity and eyesight?" he asked.

Pete went over and took the computer out of Patrick's hands, setting it aside on the table. Patrick opened his mouth to object, but Pete reached out and covered it. "No, this is the part where you cuddle with me."

Patrick looked over at Mikey, then back at Pete. "Pete, I'm not having a threesome with you," he said, voice muffled by Pete's hand, in a tone that indicated this was a conversation they'd had more than a few times.

"Has the definition of cuddle changed while we were in my bunk?" Pete asked, taking his hand away and settling in next to Patrick on the couch. "I just need a demonstration, okay?" he asked, and tugged at Patrick until he was sighing, rolling his eyes, and letting Pete curl up behind him.

"This is ridiculous," he said, half to Mikey, half to the room at large, but Pete was very earnestly arranging them, talking to Mikey as he did.

"See how he leans back against me?" he asked. "And look, here, his shoulders don't do that funny hunched thing. And I can do this," he said, wrapping an arm around Patrick's waist. "And he liiiiiiikes it."

Patrick squirmed away and rolled off the couch. "Okay," he said, "demonstration over." His cheeks were pink, his hat tilted on his head.

Pete looked disappointed. "But I hadn't gotten to the part with the – "

"Pete, I am not a _prop_ ," Patrick told him, picking up his computer with whatever dignity he had left.

Pete's face fell. "Of course you're not," he said. "You're my Patrick." He took the computer away again, Patrick putting up a little bit of a fight this time, but letting it go when Pete's determination became clear, and he put it back on the table, then fit himself into Patrick's arms and hugged him. "This part," he said over his shoulder to Mikey, "you have down pretty well, which gives me hope for the rest of it."

Patrick laughed a little and pushed him away, towards Mikey. "Good luck with the practical portion of the lesson," he said dryly, but he was smiling a little as he settled back onto the couch and pulled his headphones over his ears.

"You know," Mikey said as they headed back to Pete's bunk, "I'm not Patrick."

Pete turned and looked him over. "Yeah," he said. "I've noticed."

"I just mean…maybe I can't do that because we're not _built_ the same."

"Sure, yeah, but there's also a relaxing thing going on, too. Actually," Pete said, turning around to look at him with a gleam in his eye. "C'mere." He reached for Mikey's shirt and started pulling it off.

"Um?" Mikey asked, but Pete just tugged until Mikey had to help him or risk getting hopelessly tangled. "What - ?" he started, but Pete just pushed him down into the bunk, crawled in after him, and pulled the curtain shut. He shoved lightly at Mikey's shoulders until he was lying face down against the pillows, Pete sitting by his hips. "I don't, um. Your band?" Mikey tried, but Pete just hummed tunelessly and started rubbing Mikey's back, his fingers finding the knots there and digging in. " _Oh_ ," Mikey breathed. "Okay, yeah."

Pete worked at his back for a while, kneading out some of the tension, running his knuckles over Mikey's spine, and Mikey buried his face in the pillow to keep from making noise. Eventually, when he was kind of half asleep, Pete pushed at him a little and curled up into the space between him and the edge of the bed. Mikey draped an arm over Pete's waist and pressed his face into his shoulder, and Pete made a pleased sound.

"See?" he said, "Isn't this better?" and Mikey barely found the energy to make an agreeing noise before he was falling asleep, snuggled up against Pete's back.


End file.
